Cashmereheart's Blog

Her heart is fading; she witnesses it detached from her body, her insignificant silhouette exposed. Love becomes the pool of blood, she lies within, and it embraces her feeble remains drenched within oppression. Is this her fate?

  She loves him with everything that she is, but yet her feelings illustrate evidence, she is naught in his eyes, for if she was, he wouldn’t indulge her with such hatefulness. Her fragile spirit is concealed in the corner of their disheartened home. He doesn’t lengthen his palm in love or tend to her tears, or comfort her for the damages he has done. He seems to be imminent, often in an emotional threatening expression. His tone destroys her, he picks on her, he judges, he lashes out, and he tells her women don’t cry, where is your back bone. She hungers for intimately, yet his tones produces, find a whore. Should such vile…

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